


Untrusting Betrayal

by Lilydancer



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-12
Updated: 2010-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilydancer/pseuds/Lilydancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the following prompt at <a href="http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/"><b>kinkme_merlin</b></a>: <em>Arthur/Merlin, Edwin/Merlin (Non/dub-con). Edwin keeps making advances on Merlin whilst he's teaching him magic, Merlin either chooses to ignore them, or doesn't see them for what they are. Eventually Edwin physically forces himself onto Merlin (Bonus points for restraining him with magic etc). Arthur finds them after Edwin is finished with him, and blames himself for not helping Merlin. Looking for protective!Arthur and venerable!Merlin here, please ;)</em> Originally posted <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/5454.html?thread=2125646#t2125646">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untrusting Betrayal

  
**Title** **:** Untrusting Betrayal  
 **Rating** **:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers** **:** Season 1, ep 6  
 **Warnings** **:** Graphic non-con  
 **Summary:** Written for the following prompt at [](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/profile)[**kinkme_merlin**](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/) : _A rthur/Merlin, Edwin/Merlin (Non/dub-con). Edwin keeps making advances on Merlin whilst he's teaching him magic, Merlin either chooses to ignore them, or doesn't see them for what they are. Eventually Edwin physically forces himself onto Merlin (Bonus points for restraining him with magic etc). Arthur finds them after Edwin is finished with him, and blames himself for not helping Merlin. Looking for protective!Arthur and venerable!Merlin here, please ;)_ Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/5454.html?thread=2125646#t2125646).  
 **Disclaimer:** Merlin in this incarnation is property of the BBC, Shine and anyone else who legally owns it or any part thereof.

Flicking through his book of magic, Merlin glanced through the different spells and enchantments just slowly enough to gather the purpose of one or two every few pages, but quickly enough that he wasn’t really taking the words in. A concealment spell – a potion to remedy the passing of time – one curious spell that he couldn’t understand and that he always noticed for that very reason – a curse to make cows stop producing milk –

 

Merlin shut the book and stared at its cover as though it would answer all his questions. The book was a great tool, contained far more magical words than Merlin himself could have known without it. It had helped him in the past. Arthur would be dead if Merlin hadn’t had the book to learn from.

 

But it was also just one book, with a seemingly random selection of spells and incantations. It was filled with words Merlin shouldn’t understand but _could_ nonetheless, yet there were many others that Merlin didn’t know why he couldn’t grasp. In the past days, Merlin had been learning so much more than this book had to offer; had been learning spells for stealth, enchantments to make the sun seem brighter, potions that would soothe wounds faster than Gaius could hope to, and countless little ways to use his magic – use it and enjoy it and make life better for himself and the people he loved. Little pulses of his power that might make the grain keep from rotting, or freshen the rushes carpeting the floor, and yes he’d always used magic to do his chores but now he could keep the candles burning longer and thicken the fabric of his tunic and search out a creature’s pulse point and send tendrils of magic to find a wound faster than his eyes could seek it out. He was starting to be able to get a sense for what a creature’s strengths and weaknesses were, where its instinctual drive would take it – and wouldn’t that have been handy to know, back with the griffon, to be able to use magic and know Arthur’s weapons wouldn’t have worked because only magic could? What if they couldn’t find information about a legendry beast, what if they hadn’t been able to? Merlin had seen Arthur nearly die too many times, there had been too many close shaves, and if his magic could save time from research he had to use it.

 

Edwin had been teaching him all this and more, some of it purely for amusement but always telling Merlin that his powers should be nurtured, practised, refined, explored, enjoyed. It had been a welcome relief to be able to share his secret with someone, to talk about magic uncensored, to know that telling someone how he had used it would lead to praise and encouragement instead of warnings to be careful. Merlin had set aside his feelings that Edwin was, perhaps, just a little creepy, because Edwin offered Merlin a freedom he had never felt before; the chance to just be him, and be accepted for it without question. With Edwin, Merlin didn’t feel odd or afraid of himself or scared that he didn’t know where this came from; he felt the thrumming of pride in his heart instead, the knowledge that he was recognised for who he was and not outcast for it or forced to hide it as much as possible. Merlin’s secret and Edwin’s were between the two of them now, creating the kind of elemental bond that putting your life in someone else’s hands gave birth to, that absolute trust because any doubt was too serious to even contemplate. Uther trusted Edwin. He did not exactly find Merlin endearing. Edwin held Merlin’s life in his scarred hands but he cradled it, taught Merlin what to do with it to be as much himself as possible, and Merlin had taken that to mean Edwin was trustworthy.

 

That didn’t mean Merlin could completely ignore Edwin’s behaviour. Merlin had been told he could be pretty oblivious about other people’s advances towards him, but if Merlin was oblivious then Edwin was about as inconspicuous as a unicorn fornicating with Uther on the balcony above the courtyard (and Merlin shuddered at the thought. Still, at least should it ever come out that he had such treasonous thoughts, he could remind himself that it was not exactly like he was the model citizen beforehand anyway). Edwin had a curious habit of talking to Merlin, instructing him, without laying his eyes on Merlin’s work. They followed the line of his body instead, resting for longer than Merlin was really comfortable with on certain parts of his anatomy that Edwin had no business ogling, thank you very much (Merlin knew this because he’d actually stopped what he was doing yesterday and followed Edwin’s gaze; Edwin hadn’t noticed until the vase crashed from it’s position in mid-air to shatter on the floor). He also liked to tell Merlin stories of sorcerers who’d used the ritual of procreation to increase the potency of their spells and potions (Merlin had left rather quickly when Edwin asked if he wanted a personal demonstration – he should probably attend Arthur at least a little, after all, as his manservant).

 

Edwin hadn’t brought that up again, and Merlin was grateful. But Edwin also demonstrated spells in… less than comforting ways. For some reason a spell for steadfast knots required Merlin’s neckerchief be removed by magic, and when untying the knots in the rough fabric Edwin had ‘accidentally’ also undone the laces of Merlin’s breeches. And he’d taken to holding Merlin’s hand just so, explaining that the positioning was essential to the subtle nuances of the spell, but Merlin knew that later his hand hadn’t been anything like properly positioned and the spell had worked just fine.

 

All in all it was very awkward. Which brought Merlin to his current predicament. Edwin was teaching him a great deal – far, far more than he had ever expected to be able to learn in Camelot. Yes, some of it was trivial but much of it was useful. And Arthur; Arthur had nearly died so many times and what if next time Merlin wasn’t there or quick enough or didn’t know what to do or the information wasn’t in any of Gaius’s books?

 

But their books and Merlin’s knowledge had never failed them before. And Edwin’s behaviour made Merlin uncomfortable enough that he didn’t want to risk being in a position where he had to reject unwelcome advances from a man who could so easily tell Uther of Merlin’s secret. And Arthur would hate it – Arthur would probably try to have Edwin cast out of the kingdom if he knew of his behaviour towards Merlin. He would be furious, alight with the anger and passion and fear that burned in his eyes when he thought Merlin was in danger. Arthur would forbid Merlin any contact with Edwin and insist of confronting Edwin himself under the guise of protecting his servant.

 

Arthur. Merlin’s heart echoed with lonely footsteps in cold dark hallways at the thought of him. Since Edwin had arrived in Camelot, Merlin had little time to spend with Arthur. He could not regret learning magic. But he missed the teasing banter, missed the compliments hidden in insults, missed the speculative looks glittering in Arthur’s eyes between kisses, missed Arthur’s voice rumbling under his head where it lay pillowed on his chest in the morning. Missed having an excuse to stay late in Arthur’s chamber in case Arthur needed him during the night. But there were other servants to tend to Arthur’s needs now and Merlin’s job was to serve Edwin, not Arthur.

 

Arthur would not want Merlin to go to Edwin anymore. Merlin could tell Arthur, and Edwin would be the least of his worries.

 

But Edwin could give Merlin knowledge and skills he needed to protect Arthur. Merlin already knew he would give Arthur anything. He should have known that however long he spent trying to convince himself that his book held all that he needed, he could not take the risk that it did not.

 

For Arthur. For Arthur he could take the risk that Edwin would tell his secret if he had to tell Edwin to leave him alone. He had the knowledge now to avoid death, he was reasonably sure of that, and that concealment spell would help him remain in Camelot to protect Arthur. When Merlin looked at it like that, it wasn’t so much of a risk really; his own heart on the line but not his life and by extension Arthur’s.

 

He needed to know as much as he could, and so he slid the book back to its hiding place and set off towards Edwin’s rooms earlier than usual.

 

***

 

They had been at it for about half an hour. Merlin enjoyed the comforting warmth that came with exercising his magic; letting it out to play and then controlling it and shaping it. He enjoyed finding new ways to complete Edwin’s tasks, using what Edwin taught him but also his own instinct, placing trust in his magic to find a path for doing what he asked of it. He enjoyed watching, from the corner of his eye, as Edwin watched his magic for once and not his body, but that tingle of suspicion he’d buried also bloomed under Edwin’s gaze because he looked worried, frustrated and impatient even as he told Merlin how his abilities had been sharpened readily, as though they had been begging to be used and now lapped eagerly at the chance like puppies exploring a new home. Merlin frowned then because Edwin hadn’t used that kind of language before (he didn’t think anyone did, really, except the odd bard or minstrel) and had spoken with slow precision and an undercurrent of something Merlin couldn’t quite place. He returned his eyes to Edwin’s marred features, trying to puzzle out the other man’s meaning.

 

Their gazes locked for a long moment before Edwin scowled tightly, his scars seeming more mangled than ever as his face contorted.

 

“You have such a pretty face, Merlin.” Edwin stepped closer. Merlin took a step back, unnerved. He was not quite sure what do to but he didn’t think it involved staying in a room alone with Edwin under a glare filled with a hatred to rival only Uther’s loathing for magic.

 

“Yes,” Edwin continued. “So pretty and so open. So naïve. You have not suffered the cruelty that I have, have not been spurned because you have been made into a monster.” Merlin took another step back but Edwin muttered a spell under his breath; Merlin couldn’t figure out what it was until his limbs refused to move. His body felt like it had been hewn from stone and settled into foundations dug especially for it in the middle of the floor. He couldn’t even turn his head, flick his hand, open his mouth. All the tools that Edwin had given him, all the tricks Edwin had taught him, each and every one was useless to him now because each required speech and most also required eye contact. Merlin felt a mounting pressure in his chest as he realised his options were limited to what powers he had known of since his youth, those he had not even needed to think about; those that would not come now in his terror.

 

 _Please_ , he willed them with his mind. _Please, for Arthur’s sake, you know what to do, I know you do_. But no magic sprang to life at his fingertips; nothing elemental burst forth to protect him.

 

Edwin had reached him now and ran a hand tenderly down his face. Merlin wanted to recoil, felt sick with revulsion at the bubbly texture of the scars on Edwin’s fingers. His magic would not respond.

 

“You have been lucky.” Merlin did not feel lucky. “You owe me. You cannot refuse me – I know you don’t want to. You wouldn’t have come if you didn’t want this,” Edwin whispered in his ear. “You came to me willingly. You chose this.” And Merlin knew that was right, he had come willingly, but he had not chosen _this_ , never this; this parody of intimacy as Edwin cupped the back of Merlin’s neck in his knarled hands and pressed a chaste kiss to Merlin’s lips. Merlin swallowed tightly as his neckerchief was untied and allowed to fall to the ground, as Edwin pressed kisses down Merlin’s neck and smiled at Merlin’s shudder when he licked along Merlin’s collarbone.

 

Merlin’s magic was starting to coil in his mind, starting to answer Merlin’s pleas, when Edwin withdrew.

 

“No, Merlin. We can’t have that, can we? You wouldn’t want to spoil our fun.” Edwin smiled - hissed a few short words - returned his attention to Merlin’s neck.

 

And Merlin’s magic was beyond his grasp again, slipping between his thoughts like strands of silk that refused to remain on the loom. Merlin struggled to move, to blink, to find some part of his body that would obey his commands but the only movement Edwin allowed him was the inhale and exhale of air. He tried to project his thoughts to Edwin, tried to shout out with his mind, to tell Edwin to stop and no but he didn’t have the focus and he didn’t think Edwin would care anyway, and he couldn’t move and the prickling helpless feeling that he’d felt when Arthur was bitten by the Questing Beast was battering at his chest and throat, and he couldn’t calm his mind the way Arthur could, couldn’t bury his panic for himself the way he could for Arthur, and his thoughts wafted from one precipice to another and scattered under the gale of his fear, and his magic wouldn’t do as he asked and this wasn’t right, this shouldn’t be happening and he didn’t know what to do.

 

Edwin was peeling Merlin’s tunic off now, running his hands over the skin of Merlin’s torso as though he owned it. Merlin registered dimly that his limbs moved when Edwin tried to move them, but only in the way Edwin moved them – they still would not obey Merlin’s commands.

 

Edwin scraped his fingernails down Merlin’s chest and flicked Merlin’s nipple. Merlin heard a whimper echo in his own head and realised it was his own voice, his own sound, reverberating in his skull where it could not escape past closed lips. Edwin seemed to hear it too, because he smiled again and told Merlin to be as loud as he liked. His fingers were at the ties of Merlin’s breeches now, and when they dropped to pool over the edges of Merlin’s boots, Edwin enclosed Merlin’s penis in his hand, stroking and tugging until he’d forced Merlin to full arousal. Merlin wished he could close his eyes at least, that he could pretend this was not happening and he was anywhere but here. He felt bile rise in his throat as Edwin’s breath christened his cock. He needed to move, needed his magic, needed to get away, trapped, needed to escape, needed out.

 

His magic tried valiantly to gather itself again but a glance and more hissing from Edwin turned Merlin’s efforts to nothing more useful than pretty dust coating the floor in his mind.

 

Suddenly Edwin pulled away completely. He stood back, studying Merlin closely.

 

“You should know,” Edwin murmured almost conspiratorially, “that I take great pleasure in finding your body both beautiful and every bit as flawed as my own.” He reached out to trail a single finger over Merlin’s hip. “Too skinny.”

 

Merlin flinched inside. That was what Arthur always said, only Arthur never sounded like this. Arthur always said it in the context of wanting to feed Merlin up, to look after him, always said it with a touch of worry that Merlin wasn’t supposed to notice in his voice. Arthur never had that cold, calculating tone when speaking about Merlin’s body, not even when he was trying to train Merlin. Arthur’s ‘criticisms’ were not hurtful because they were not meant to be. Edwin’s voice dripped with blood, reeked of burning flesh, tasted of a desperation to make himself better than those around him.

 

“Too bony, here.” Edwin slapped Merlin’s ass, walking around him as he catalogued every possible flaw he could find. “I knew about the ears, of course. That scar, right there.” Merlin had a small scar on the outside of his thigh from the time he and Will had been-

 

Merlin cut off that train of thought. He was getting distracted. He needed to focus.

 

Suddenly Merlin found himself hovering above the ground. Edwin was still smiling in front of him, but then Merlin was turning, his back to Edwin, and being propelled forwards so that his front has pinned tight against the rough stone of the castle wall. It grated against his chest when he breathed. His nose hurt from colliding with the stone but he was pretty sure he’d turned his head quickly enough to avoid most damage. The pain was a good distraction from the vulnerability of his new position though, plastered to the wall, his feet still off the ground; his breeches still stuck in his boots, making his feet heavy, and his back - his ass - presented to Edwin like the centrepiece of a tableau that Merlin wished he was not a part of.

 

At least he didn’t have to look at Edwin now. But with a fierce desperation, he also knew he was running out of time, out of chances. He needed his magic. Edwin should not be able to hold this kind of power over him; whatever happened to him being this great and powerful warlock? He needed to protect himself but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He was helpless and naked and vulnerable.

 

Merlin could feel Edwin behind him, could feel that rotten breath on his neck. He tried to tense, tried to whimper when a finger pressed into him but his muscles would not obey. The intrusion felt so wrong, like he was being punished, felt dirty and alien and cold. He could feel the scars on Edwin’s finger, wrinkled like an old man inside him, and everything he had rebelled at the idea; everything but his magic. His magic lay still and dormant and why, _why_ when he needed it would it not come to him.

 

He should be shaking. Edwin forced a second finger in and Merlin tried to breathe through the dry burn, tried to will his magic to lubricate Edwin’s fingers the way it would Arthur’s but it wouldn’t co-operate.

 

And then Edwin’s fingers were gone and Merlin didn’t know whether he wanted to tense in the hopes it would keep Edwin out or relax to try and stop it hurting, but it didn’t matter because he couldn’t do either, all he could do was scream in his head as Edwin thrust in roughly, and maybe his magic was working because Edwin’s cock was slick but it barely registered because Merlin had not been ready, not really, and Edwin had shoved his way in and forced Merlin open. The momentum had shifted him up the wall, stone scraping against his bare chest, and Edwin pulled him back down before thrusting again. Merlin was vaguely aware of the weight of one of his boots sliding off and dropping to the ground; wished he could focus on that rather than the raw pain blistering through his ass.

 

Merlin’s mind went blank as agony screeched through him a second time, his chest, his cock, his knees, his chin all dragging against stone as Edwin plundered him. His world narrowed to one word, repeated like a litany, a prayer, a spell, a reason in his head, _Arthur. Arthur. Arthur_. Pain jolted him, interrupted him, broke the word between syllables; stopped him from forming the whole word; turned the word from a reason to get through this to a plea for help to just a word, just a vision, a place where this reality didn’t exist, to safety and protection and back again to a reason, to a scream that reverberated around his head as though he could somehow call Arthur to him and put a stop to this. Put a stop to Edwin, moving inside him like a reptile, wrong and foreign in his body. Put a stop to the pain, end it the way his father ended the lives of sorcerers.

 

Then Edwin was coming, thick and sticky inside Merlin and pulling out, letting his come dribble out of Merlin’s hole and letting Merlin crumble to the floor as Edwin’s spell was lifted. Merlin could feel his magic brewing again, brewing up a nightmare for his attacker, brewing healing potions for Merlin’s body; but he could barely move without his muscles whispering to him of their sharp ache and his boot was digging into his abraded chest so he let his magic do what it wanted and spill towards Edwin, knocking his unconscious although Merlin couldn’t say how. He was shaking now, shaking like he’d thought he should be while it was happening, and Arthur’s name was still on repeat in his head. Merlin stared blankly at Edwin’s slumped body, not even moving to shift his boot from beneath his chest, just lying prone on the floor with his eyes locked on the figure halfway across the room from him. Nothing seemed to register; nothing seemed important except for the person in Merlin’s head, and Merlin distantly wondered if Arthur would be disgusted with him now but couldn’t quite stop himself repeating the name, as though his thoughts were stuck. Each time Arthur’s name swam through Merlin’s thoughts, a little bit more emotion swelled to the surface. The fear and helplessness, the dirty feelings of disgust, the shame; all bobbing up with Arthur’s name but never quite cresting above the waves, never quite there. Like Arthur was safety and those vulnerable feelings were too dangerous without him there.

 

And then Arthur’s voice was in his head and Merlin thought he was going mad until Arthur’s boots marched into view and Arthur was leaning over him and Merlin tensed until Arthur’s hands traced his skin, shaking, helping Merlin to move and whispering over the marks on his body. Merlin could hear the fear and worry and guilt in Arthur’s voice but couldn’t make out the words. He could feel himself trembling but couldn’t quite connect to it. Arthur’s hands turned his face gently so that their eyes met and seeing the glistening tears Arthur would not allow to fall seemed to tug all those feelings to the surface. Merlin could do nothing but hold Arthur tight and cry.

 

***

 

Merlin had been settled in Arthur’s bed after Gaius had examined him and declared that he would heal but would be sore for a while to come. Arthur had insisted that Merlin’s own bed would be too painful and uncomfortable until Gaius had sighed and relented.

 

Arthur slowly climbed into the bed beside Merlin, having left to see his father. He turned onto his side, propping his head up on his elbow to talk to Merlin.

 

“Edwin’s dead. After what he did to you…” Arthur was shaking and his voice sounded raw and choked. Merlin slipped a hand into his and squeezed gently.

 

“It’s not your fault, Arthur.” Merlin didn’t know where this calm strength had come from. He knew there would be tough times ahead, knew that what had happened today would take time to process and work through. But right now, he had Arthur, and Arthur still loved him even though he had never said the words.

 

Arthur laughed bitterly. “I’m supposed to protect you.” His voice was hollow, like he’d failed; like he’d lost. It wasn’t a sound Merlin wanted to hear from Arthur, ever.

 

“I’m supposed to protect you,” Arthur repeated.

 

“You are. Right now, here, just being here. Wanting me here.” Merlin cupped Arthur’s cheek with his hand, stroking gently. “You found me. You took care of me, you saw me safe. It’s not your fault.”

 

Merlin could see that Arthur didn’t believe his words but could find no others to give him. He would do his best to, in the days to come, just as Arthur would hold him close through nightmares and tend to his wounds with care and keep his patience no matter how many times Merlin felt to blame or wondered that Arthur could still want anything to do with him. For now, Merlin wanted to just be held, knowing that he could move if he wanted, knowing that Arthur would not try to stop him voicing his views, not when they were alone together. Knowing that the only person he trusted to keep him safe was the man who pulled him close now, placed a tender kiss to his lips and just held him, reassuring himself that Merlin was safe and reassuring Merlin that he was protected and cared for.


End file.
